


(We are not) Alone

by sacheverell



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Drugs, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, pizza delivery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:55:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacheverell/pseuds/sacheverell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke is a delivery driver who always gets caught up in all the weird shit around town. He comes home and some dude with white hair is passed out in his hallway. He never thought delivering pizza's would give him the skill set to take on the shit that comes at him next, but...</p>
            </blockquote>





	(We are not) Alone

My car’s making weird noises when I shift it into second gear again and I can’t be bothered to have it looked at. It rolls into the parking spot at The Hanging Pizza and I pull on the emergency brake, grabbing my empty pizza bag and lumbering inside.

  
“Hey Gare.” Merrill says at the pick-up window. She appears to be on the phone but is hardly pay attention to whatever the person is saying. I walk past her and toss my bag on the warmer and look to see if we have any delivery runs up.

“Slow Thursday.” My boss, Varric says, cutting up some dough balls. I go over and help him squash them into shape.

I shrug, “Week days are always slow. I met this weird ass lady on this last run though.”

“Yeah? Where was it?”

“Over in Lowtown. Close to Merrill’s house. She ordered like three mountain dews because her son is afraid of sleeping or some shit.”

Varric laughs, finishing up the last of the dough and helping me squash it down. “You always get the weird ones Hawke.”

“I’m going on a run.” Merrill lilts from the front, pulling a pie out of the oven and boxing it.

“Alright Daisy, be safe.”

“Always am Varric.”

We both watch her triple check that she has everything, check the big map on the wall, nod to herself and then head out the door. I resist sighing.

“She’s a good kid.” Varric says after a moment. “I think once she gets more settled with the town she’ll fit right in.”

“I’m just worried she’ll give the pizza to someone on the streets because they tell her they ordered it. And then they’ll jump her and steal her bank. And then her car.” I rub my face, succeeding in getting flour in my beard. “Ugh. She’s just so spacey.”

Varric chortles. “Don’t get your panties in a wad. Go home Hawke, Daisy and I can finish up and I don’t think it’s going to pick up again.”

I nod and go count my money. It was just an okay tip day. The big burly guys that are shacked up in the warehouses at the docks never tip well and always order a mountain. But the people down in Lowtown or even the darker side of the city usually scrounge up something nice.

I pack up my bank, clock out and bid Varric good night.

“By the way, can I have Saturday off? It’s my sister’s play.”

Varric nods, waving his hand dismissively at me.

I stick my tongue out at his broad back and leave the store. It’s warm in the kitchen and when I step out into the night I gather my coat around me, not liking the cold.

I convince my car to start, the delivery business is not nice on already worn cars, and head home.

 

Kirkwall at night is an interesting place. If you ignore the shadows that unfurl themselves and watch you drive by, the empty streets exude a nostalgia that I haven’t found other places. There’s something about seeing streets that are always backed up with countless stupid drivers, empty of life. Coasting through green lights. Feeling like I could stop and check my phone and no one would care. Maybe the guy with hollow cheeks who looks like a victim of the huge L drug problem we have in this city. They look at you like their hungry and their souls are empty. It makes my skin crawl.

My apartment isn’t located in the best neighborhood, but it’s also not the worst. I just moved up from the slums about four days ago and when I unlock the door the first thing I see are the towers of boxes that are still littered about.

Except one of the towers is knocked over. I scowl, turning on a light and looking at the stuff that has burst everywhere. Just clothing, nothing breakable. I step forward, about to start picking it all up when I see him.

He’s lying passed out on the ground, a pile of my t-shirts draped over him haphazardly where they’ve fallen. His hair is shocking white and he’s wearing a dark brown leather jacket and tight jeans. I stand there and stare at him for a long moment, completely unsure what to do.

“Hello?” I start with. He doesn’t move. I step closer, my hand hovering near my phone, wondering if I should just call the police. He has darker skin, and from what part of his cheek I can see he’s pretty beat up. Just peaking around the edge of his chin I see a line of something white. I step closer, braving a shake of his leg, ready to spring back. He still doesn’t budge.

“Hey, dude. Wake up. Are you okay?” I finally crouch next to him, pushing on his shoulder. He makes a low sound in his throat and I push again. “Hello?”

He groans and rolls onto his side, his eyes staying shut. He goes limp again, his head lolling back and his lips opening just a smidge. His right eye is swollen and he has a cut on his cheek and lip, the former is bleeding slowly, dried blood already smeared on his face. He has tiny fragile white tattoo lines swirling down his neck and past his shirt collar.

“Please don’t be a scary gang member.” I mumble, poking him again. “C’mon dude. I don’t want to call the cops. But if you’re going to die in my apartment it looks worse if I don’t. So lend me a hand here.”

I get another groan and his neck bobs as he gulps forcefully. He shifts again and his eyebrows come together in a scowl. “No cops.”

“Well at least you’re not dead.” I sigh.

He rolls back onto his stomach, pressing his forehead against the ground and takes a deep breathe. Finally his eyes flutter open and he looks around.

“My apartment?” He mumbles.

“No. My apartment. How’d you get in here?”

He sits up slowly, gripping his head. “My key.”

I thought it was just him waking up but his voice stays at a guttural low tone. It’s the kind of voice you’d feel against your back if he were pressed up against you.

I frown at him. “Your key?”

He’s looking around now the pissed off expression not slipping from his face.

“Ugh. I must be on the wrong floor. I just…” He twists out a sarcastic grin, rolling his eyes. “I just moved up a floor. It’s weird my key still works though.”

“Yeah. Pretty weird.” I stand and offer him a hand up. He looks at me for a long moment and then pushes himself up, a hand on the wall. He looks supremely unsteady, swaying a little once he’s all the way upright. My hand just sort of flops to my side and we stare at each other for another moment.

“Sorry to intrude.” He finally says.

“Do you need help? Like a ride to the hospital or something?” It’s three am and I just got done with a long day of classes and an even longer work shift. But some part of me is saying that this can’t just be the end of our weird little interlude.

“No… No, I’ll be fine. I’ve cleaned up after worse.”

I resist the urge to offer to walk him to his door. “Okay then… Well, good night.”

“Good night.”

He’s out the door and a few steps down the hall when I call after him, “Wait, what’s your name?”

He looks back at me for a moment, blinking. “Fenris.” He says after a moment. “And you’re Hawke.”

I must have a look because he points back into my apartment. “It’s written on all your boxes.”

“Oh,” I nod. “Right. Well, good night Fenris.”

He nods back and walks away, disappearing around the end of the hall.

I go back into my apartment, numbly piling all my t-shirts back into their boxes. What a weird dude. He was completely passed out. And looks like he got the shit completely beat out of him. I thought I’d moved out of the shady part of town. I was definitely going to have to talk to my property manager about why he hadn’t changed the locks.

A few minutes later I hear shuffling in the apartment upstairs and I take it to mean Fenris arrived home and literally lives right above me. If the floor layouts are the same it does make sense that he ended up in the wrong apartment. Especially if he was barely making it home.

I go and do my night ritual, brushing my teeth and debating on taking a shower. My alarm will be going off in about six hours and Fenris ate into any of my extra time before bed. I decide I’m not that dirty and just flop into bed. There are two boxes covered in blankets I’ve set up at the end of my bed that are my impromptu mattress extenders and I burry myself in my covers, willing my mind to stop racing.

I’d never met a person with face tattoos before.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk haha. I never not finish things before I post them, I feel like I'm driving blindfolded. Where am I going with this? not 100% sure. someone nag me.


End file.
